


Truth in Magic (The Veritas Remix)

by navaan



Category: DCU (Comics), Swamp Thing (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Ficlet, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, John Constantine is a Mess, Lost Love, Love/Hate, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Crisis on Infinite Earths (DCU), Pre-Reboot, Remix, complicated romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knows that it's inevitable that people around him will get hurt. He can't stop needing though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth in Magic (The Veritas Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kerithwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Veritas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/179462) by [kerithwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn). 



> Written for [Remix Madness 2015](http://remixers-lounge.livejournal.com/115326.html) as a remix of [Veritas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/179462) by kerithwyn

When it happens, he just knows he's had it coming. This is how it goes. It always does.

“I hate you, John,” she says, her eyes still wet, but her face cold and blank. He can't fault her for the sentiment.

Her father still lies dead at the table and it doesn't even matter that they just saved the world. Zatara is dead, died saving his beloved daughter, and although John did not do it, he might as well have. He knew from the beginning that this wouldn't be a clean job. Zatara knew, too, had only been here to protect Zatanna. He never trusted John Constantine.

Rightly so.

“I know, love,” he says and knows it's how the end begins. She looks at him for the first time and knows that all the stories about him are true. He's the laughing magician, but that has only ever meant he walks away while the people around him pay the price. For all the good times they've had together, it was only a matter of time until the sweet Zatanna Zatara would see John Constantine for what he really is. 

Bad luck's what he is. Danger's what he is.

There's no way around it. He tries to keep people at arms length, tries to keep the ones he loves out of harms way. It never works out. Magic always gets its due one way or another.

He doesn't know what brings him back to her doorstep weeks later. His mind is numb, the magic's making all the choices for him now, synchronicity leading the way. There is soot still clinging to his coat from his latest misadventure, a streak of blood running down his cheek from a cut and he's taking a long drag from his fag before he makes his presence known, blowing out the smoke slowly. His fist is raised in the air, ready to knock, when the door opens before him on its own. 

There she is, standing in the doorway, looking at him as if she's seeing a ghost. He most likely looks like one, too. And she looks just as beautiful as ever, long black hair failing over her shoulders and eyes clear and glittering with magic. He wants to kiss her.

“I'm tired, Zee,” is what comes out of his mouth instead, in a pathetic attempt to explain how he dares to be here, dares to turn to her of all people. It's not like he has many friends left who'd let him in, not on this side of the world.

But apparently it's better than nothing and she steps aside, letting him in. “John,” she says. “You look like hell.” Her expression doesn't change, remains neutral.

“Good to see you, love,” he says and musters up something that may count as a smile.

She looks him over slowly.

He expects hatred. 

Expects her to come at him, slap him for coming to her at all.

Expects a spell to throw him out, before another word is said. _Eb enog_ , or the like.

Instead she kisses him, ignoring all the blood and grime, hand on his chin and tilting up her head for a better angle.

“I love you, John,” she tells him in level tone, and it's not an admission of sweet love, not a promise of happy ever after. It's something more simple and more complicated than that; something only people like them, people touched by magic, can every understand. She still hates him for being who he is. But she's always loved him for it, too. There's no way around it.

“I know, love,” he whispers against the soft skin of her neck, reveling in the smell, the feel of her. “I know.” It's the closest he can get to saying it back. But he won't curse this, won't jinx it by speaking the truth aloud, admitting what it is he's feeling, admitting how much he needs her, will always need her, even when he walks away, even when she won't have him anymore.

Truth is a powerful thing.

Magic has a way of setting things right.

Magic has a way of taking everything away again.

But just for now this feels like all the magic he will every need.


End file.
